


The Scent of Lithuania

by akatsuki_tsukiyomi (Yumi25Nakashima)



Series: First Blush [33]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst and Romance, Character Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Intimacy, Marriage, Reader-Insert, Revolutionary War, Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, Tragic Romance, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yumi25Nakashima/pseuds/akatsuki_tsukiyomi
Summary: In the soft buzzing of the phonograph that played a soft tune, he held her close, rocking them side to side. They swayed to the music, trapped in their little bubble of intimacy. She could still remember his sweet fragrance of wildflowers, ginger, raspberry, sandalwood, and musk.
Relationships: Lithuania (Hetalia)/Reader
Series: First Blush [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089500
Kudos: 3





	The Scent of Lithuania

**Author's Note:**

> Toris Laurinaitis - Lithuania's official human name

She smiled at the customer leaving the boutique. The beautiful woman gave her a short wave of thanks as she and her husband made their way out through the revolving doors. She placed the necklaces adorned with amber, sapphires, rubies, and other precious stones back into the glass display table before gently locking the compartment's door.

Soft music was playing inside the mall. Gradually, the lights started turning off in the farther end of the establishment, dimming the atmosphere around her.

Her colleagues busied themselves with restocking the displays, carefully unboxing their small supply of jewellery. Their manager inspected the displays, looking for any defects in the products or any unwanted flaws in the rest of the ornaments decorating the lush velvet cover that lay underneath the jewels.

She wiped the entire length of the large display counters with a cloth, ridding the glass of any fingermarks and other impressions. She opened one of the drawers under the cash register and replaced the white silk gloves she had used for new ones, disposing of the old ones in a little basket to be sent for laundering.

She heard one of her colleagues call her name, inviting her into their conversation.

"Would you like to join my husband and me for dinner sometime?" Her workmate asked.

She smiled back as she set her gloves in the little compartment on her station, convenient for her to reach as she worked.

"I'll have to ask my husband first," she replied. Her friend gave her a sulking expression.

"I hope his schedule would permit it," she moped. "The last time we were in your company was last Christmas!"

Another of her associates responded to an agreement and commented on how she was rarely seen with her husband apart from mandated social gatherings.

"He's a very busy man," she mused. She continued to go about their closing routine, unplugging the lights lining their displays, double-checking the locks on all the compartments, and covering the counters.

The overhead music was turned off minutes later, signalling their cue to leave the establishment.

They bid their goodbyes and left the building in pairs.

The clock struck eleven as the winter wind blew in her face. She wrapped her coat tighter around her and turned up her collar. She had left her scarf behind the door in their bedroom that day. The night prior was her husband's day off from work and they had spent the night dancing together in their living room until the sun rose. In the soft buzzing of the phonograph that played a soft tune, he held her close, rocking them side to side. They swayed to the music, trapped in their little bubble of intimacy. She could still remember his sweet fragrance of wildflowers, ginger, raspberry, sandalwood, and musk.

She had woken twice the morning after—that morning—once from his alarm and once more from hers. She had been so sluggish and drowsy that she was almost late to work, hence forgetting her scarf in her rush.

She and her colleague walked side by side toward the station.

"I'm thinking of getting my husband to pick me up from the store soon," the other female mumbled. She turned to her and asked why.

"The secret," she lowered her voice as her eyes looked around. "The secret police have been quite active lately. Just last week, my neighbour was raided because she was a woman in her 30s and living alone. They're tracking and monitoring every person accused of being a spy and a part of the rebellion. And as it turns out, a lot of single men and women are part of those organizations. Now, just men and women walking alone are found suspicious, married or not."

She nodded, her hands turning to fists inside the pockets of her coat as she listened.

"Sorry, I shouldn't even be talking about this. But see, I talked to my husband about picking me up after work and he said the earlier he could come was a quarter to twelve. He said he'd phone the store to tell me if he could pick me up or not, which still leaves me to take the train home if he couldn't. I was wondering if you would arrange for your husband to pick you up or if you'd like to ride home with me and my husband. You know I wouldn't let you walk to the station alone. And your house is on the way to ours so it really wouldn't be any trouble."

She thought about the offer for a minute. Their heels hit the tiled floor of the station as they entered. The midnight train was arriving shortly.

"If it really won't be any trouble. My husband's workplace is too far for him to trouble himself with picking me up, at midnight nonetheless. Thank you for offering," she smiled. Her friend mirrored the happy expression and nodded, locking their arms together.

"It's settled then!"

\---

She unlocked the front door of her apartment and closed it behind her as she entered. She locked the doorknob and latched the additional chain on.

Toris's coat was already hung on the coat peg along with his hat. She stepped out of her low-heeled shoes and her coat, hanging it on the peg next to her husband's.

As she gently pushed their bedroom door open, the said man opened his soft green eyes to look in her direction. He was already in bed. He was such a light sleeper that he most likely already awakened from her opening the front door.

" _Svajonele_ ," he rasped, his voice still coated with sleep. It was not her name but a nickname he had given her. He said it meant 'dream.' She was his dream. The woman he never thought he would have met and married.

"Hey. I'll only be a minute," she greeted, setting her purse on the vanity. She changed into her nightwear and brushed her hair gently after washing up.

"A package came for you," he said, closing his eyes and getting ready to fall back asleep. She noticed a small box wrapped in familiar cloth and a letter on top of it.

He told her it was from her brother and he had sent them gifts for their first wedding anniversary that they had celebrated months before. Her brother was comparatively as busy as her husband and the package and letter he had mailed only then came to their doorstep.

She unwrapped the package, the familiar cloth their family weaved sending her a pleasant wave of nostalgia. Inside the small box underneath, she found a beautiful dainty necklace. She smiled at the gift.

"What did he send you?" She asked her husband. He hummed. "Cufflinks. Remind me to write to him soon to thank him."

She nodded and picked up the letter. Her name was written in graceful cursive in blood-red ink. Seeing the colour of her name, she tensed.

"I'll be in the living room to read this," she said. He nodded as she turned off the lamp on their bedside table and made her way to the living room.

She lit the fireplace as she read her brother's letter.

His neat and small handwriting filled the page, asking about her wellbeing, wishing her well, and congratulating them on their anniversary. She sat at the hearth and held the paper close to the fire.

Slowly, dark ink started appearing in between the lines she had just read.

' _Prepare yourself. The alliance treaty between our country and where you are is said to be signed and agreed upon with little deliberation. The revolution has sunk its roots deep within the hearts of our people. It will happen. Soon. We cannot let our people be kindred with them. Stand with our brothers and sisters and prepare yourself. Our time to strike is coming. There is no turning back._ '

She furrowed her brows. The silent war between her husband's country and her home country was looming greater than ever. The paper she held was soon bitten by the flames of the fire and she watched as it was slowly charred and turned to ashes.

She prioritized her family over everything and her family prioritized their country over anything. Her marriage into the borders of Lithuania with a diplomat was advantageous to help her home country free itself from foreign rule and oppression. Lithuania was heavily under the influence of Russia. While the country was under such a powerhouse, they could not let their nation be dragged into the crossfire and subjugated to the same towering tension.

She had been one of the many reliable assets in bringing confidential information to the government she worked for. Toris rarely brought his work home with him, but in the instances that he could not help but to, she had recorded and gathered as much as she could. Her comrades were scattered liberally over the nation, doing their best and making sure they put themselves to good use to aid their nation from crippling.

As the letter completely burnt, she stood and watched the flames, her mind in disarray.

' _Things will go according to plan. Our nation will not yield. The revolution is coming_.' She thought to herself.

\---

"The rebels responsible for the attempt to disrupt the signing of the treaty of the alliance have been apprehended. More of the defected persons are being surfaced and are being taken into custody. Those who display aggression towards the authorities are being handled as hostile and are taken by force for interrogation. As of this hour, seventeen reported rebels have been executed in their encounter with the police force due to their displayed aggression. Six others have reportedly taken their lives after being taken into custody. The twenty-two individuals arrested from the attempted attack and other suspicions are currently being interrogated." The news anchor reported, his face stern, and his voice grave.

She sat on the living room couch, fiddling with the necklace her brother had given her.

It had been six days since Toris returned. It had been a month since her brother's passing.

Her husband had been kept in private government protection, as well as other government officials and public servants. All officials and public servants were thoroughly investigated and checked before being put into custody. A select few had been executed where they stood once their identities as moles were revealed through damning evidence. She had been assured that should she need immediate attention from the authorities, she would be on the top of their list.

The tension that had been brewing in the air had quickly dispersed around the city, filling the streets with dread and despair. It had been more than a week since she last got out of the apartment. All calls were being tapped into and all letters were being read before they arrived at their destination.

Everyone was a target to the police—no, the secret police. The official taskforce that handled crimes of rebellion and other offences against the nation.

A gentle knock on the door made her jump out of her skin. She peeked out into the hallway and watched the front door. A shadow was blocking part of the light that seeped in from the space where the door did not completely meet the floor.

"Your mail," a deep voice said before a simple envelope was pushed into the little mailslot of the front door. Heavy boots trudged away and she cautiously made her way toward the small white envelope.

She picked it up. It was in Toris's handwriting. He wrote her name elegantly on the back of the envelope in blood-red ink.

She felt the colour leave her face.

As she opened it, a small folded piece of paper appeared to be inside. She pulled it out along with something else that floated down to the floor. Not bothering to spare the item another glance, she quickly unfolded her husband's note, her fingers shaking and her heart pounding in her ears.

' _Have you been well? Are you eating properly? If you need more stock of food, just phone the agency. They will help you. We will see each other soon, Svajonele. This will all be over. I am coming home soon.'_

Tears clouded her vision as she bent down to pick up the ripped piece of cloth that had come with the note. It was the weaved fabric of her family. She slowly walked toward the fireplace and held the paper close to the blaze.

' _I admit that I never thought that you of all people would turn against me. But it has come to this._ '

That was all that was written. She clutched it in her fist, crumpling the paper. She brought it to her lips as she shook with fear and desperation.

She was dead to the world as far as she knew. They were going to come for her.

\---

The phonograph played softly while the fire crackled in the hearth.

She stood, swaying to the music, her eyes closed. Her hair was loose, not in the usual updo she routinely styled it in. She was wearing her best dress, the one her husband was so fond of. Her wedding ring glinted in the warm orange glow that illuminated the room.

The lock on the door clicked but she did not stop dancing.

She heard the boots of someone walking down the hall.

She continued rocking to the music.

She opened her eyes, stilling. The fireplace was in front of her. Somebody was behind her. The figure came closer until she was pressed against it. The barrel of a gun was cold against her temple.

She felt the tears come once more as she smelt wildflowers, ginger, raspberry, sandalwood, and musk.

On top of the brick fireplace was a framed photo of their wedding. In the faint reflection made on the glass, she could see his beautiful emerald eyes. Cold. Unyielding.

"So you're the one who's come?" she asked. With the arm he held up to press the gun against her, she saw the band on his sleeve, the insignia of the secret police displayed proudly.

"I was none the wiser," she whispered to him. His other arm wrapped around her waist. Her hands landed on him, one on his arm, clutching his uniform's sleeve, the other grasping his gloved hand.

"For _Lietuva_ ," **Lithuania** He whispered back, cocking his gun.

She smiled bitterly at him, her reflection visible to him in their framed wedding photograph. She murmured her loyalty to her country.

"Forgive me."

"I love you," she replied, her honesty scalding him. He met her eyes once more.

" _Aš tave myliu_ , _brangioji_. _Labos nakties._ " **I love you, dear, goodnight**

She did not close her eyes. He pulled the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> This is personally another one of my favourite works.
> 
> This was originally published in Wattpad on Jul 5, 2020.


End file.
